


(he froze up, )believe it's the fright

by clandestineClairvoyant



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Gore, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mild Gore, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, but i don't know what i expected, even though hanzo has never said no it's still iffy, monster!reaper, uh i guess this is kind of kinkier than i intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10114439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineClairvoyant/pseuds/clandestineClairvoyant
Summary: Rarepair prompt on the kink-meme******************************************“You killed my whole team though. How-” Hanzo made another noise at the sharp, bright pain that bloomed in his shoulder, a hollow sounding gasp. The sound of Reaper’s mask hitting the alley floor was louder in the resounding silence of his desperate sound, and left the smoking, unnatural voice so much more guttural with clarity. Unfiltered by the bulletproof ceramic.“Am I supposed to take that? Maybe you don’t like me any more?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QicNRgElCsk

***********************************************

 

 

Hanzo’s back met the wall with a resounding thud, damp grit sticking to his spine, and the wings of his shoulder blades grinding uncomfortably as an arm as thick and hard as an iron bar pressed itself across his throat and trapped him as effectively as any cage. His legs still burned with effort of dodging strafing lines of gunfire, lungs still rasped with the quick heaving breaths of battle, and it made his head whirl at the quick movement.

A hand at his neck, a foot behind his ankles and the sudden surprise of teleportation like graveyard mist, and Hanzo was at the mercy of his attacker. He didn’t like being out maneuvered, and it showed in the furious snarl he gave, and the twist of his torso. His eyes narrowed to slits, and if his attacker had been anything human they might have drawn back at the emotion in the gaze alone.

Of course, he was not.

Hanzo struggled, hands coming up to pry the sharp tipped gauntlets away from his neck, and one knee coming up to drive into his assailants side- But at the motion his breath was shut off as surely as turning a faucet, with a casual application of pressure that had him gasping soundlessly. A low chuckle that smelled of grave dirt and blood drifted like a cool breeze across his face, fluttering the sweaty strands of hair that hung into his line of sight and stuck to his cheeks. It hurt, the press, a choking rasp all that managed to escape as the pressure in his head built briefly and inexorably like being shoved underwater.

It kept building until Hanzo ceased his struggling, letting his hands fall to his sides to clench into useless angry fists, face scarlet and fingers tingling. His eyes burned, lights and shadows tilting dizzily- until air as sweet as honey rushed down his throat and he sucked in eager breaths that smelled of leather and gunsmoke; and something chemical.

“ _Better._ ” A satisfied, tsking noise wafted with the breath, all chitinous clicks mimicking human pleasure. _”Much better.”_

Hanzo gulped noisy breaths and glared into the hood that blocked the light in front of him, trying to breathe past the smell of death, cordite, and gunsmoke.

_”All done playing hard to get?”_ Reaper rumbled his words like a growl, as if he was simply making an approximation at vocal chords rather than actually speaking, and Hanzo snorted derisively at the sloppy attempt at intimidation. Claws clenched against his clothing, tearing slightly and kicking his heart into beating slightly faster despite the dismissive expression Hanzo carved into his features, mouth twisted slightly, unimpressed and bored. Reaper’s mask tilted, as if he was looking, or listening to the result, observing the expanse of muscle and skin and barely contained violence pinned underneath his claws.

Gunshots went off in the distance, drawing absolutely no movement from either Hanzo or the Talon mercenary, who was as still as a statue, claws kneading like a cats and breath hissing wetly without any sort of inhalation as he considered the archer pinned like a particularly dangerous butterfly to the wall. It was unnerving,and Hanzo pulled at the grip, thinking faintly of his team and whether they would be arriving any time soon.

It would be nice, to have an actually dependable group of comrades, who he would know for a fact would be there. It was his own fault, he supposed, a bad habit of increased radio silence borne of solitude and aloofness even after he’d accepted the leash and collar of working with a paramilitary organization. Hanzo enjoyed working alone, despite his sway into joining Overwatch. A part of him missed being truly alone, able to go where he pleased, hostage only to his own paranoia and the skills of his pursuer. No responsibility to people who depended on his covering fire, the strength of his arm. 

 

No threat of being cornered, while trying to prevent an ambush on his comrades while they defended a payload.

 

“If this is what you call hard to get, I hate to think of what a _no_ would look like.” Hanzo replied hoarsely, for lack of anything better to say. A clawed hand came up to trace an idle path against his cheek, and Hanzo bared his teeth at the faint tickle, the slight sting and the sticky warmth it left in it’s wake that he had trouble discerning from the sweat, and blood, and alley filth coating him after the brief scrimmage with Talon. The same scrimmage that had left them the last two standing in the Numbani alleyway.

It had been quick, and ugly, and he had been the victor. Right up until this point.

Not three feet from one metallic foot was a body, an arrow protruding ugly and sharp from the back of a mercenary, that twisted the fabric of dark fatigues around it’s shape. The sluggish trickle of blood that leaked from it was still warm. Hanzo knew this because it still coated his wrist, a streak cooling on his throat in a tacky smear where he had left it in his brief struggle to get free from Reaper.

“ _Mmmm. I wouldn’t know. You haven’t said no yet._ ” Reaper drove the hard edge of his mask into the damp curve of Hanzo’s neck and inhaled- a deep and shuddering breath that sounded far greater than human lungs- drawing an involuntary shudder, and a brief ripple of motion from Hanzo. It was followed by a purr, deep and rattling like dropping something down a well. Hanzo’s shuddering press of knees and hands to that broad kevlar encased chest was involuntary, but still had Reaper’s heavy weight pressing onto him _harder_ from toe to top, a heavy smothering blanket that left Hanzo dizzy and hot with adrenaline.

To his shame he was hard- had been the moment Reaper had pinned him to the wall, the thrill pooling in his belly and adrenaline pumping hot even as his breath came short. The fact that he feigned unaffectedness was not lost on Reaper, who undoubtedly could tell, with the proximity of his thigh to Hanzo’s crotch.

“ _You killed my whole team though. How-_ ” Hanzo made another noise at the sharp, bright pain that bloomed in his shoulder, a hollow sounding gasp. The sound of Reaper’s mask hitting the alley floor was loud in the resounding silence of his pleased sound, and left the smoking, unnatural voice so much more guttural with clarity. Unfiltered by the bulletproof ceramic. _“Am I supposed to take that? Maybe you don’t like me any more?”_

Another bright burst of pain as what he recognized now as teeth pressed carefully, almost lovingly into his skin. This time Hanzo was louder, hands fisting in the heavy almost burlap-like fabric of Reaper’s tactical gear, struggling to either pull him closer or push him away. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. Not with a mouth as wide as that of a shark’s laving hot, sharp moisture across his neck, down the column of his throat and onto his chest, pinpricks of stinging pain following in it’s wake as Reaper’s jagged grin drew blood to the surface. _“Maybe I should stop bothering, after all the pleasant evenings we spent together. After all, you’re just-”_ A bite on his collarbone, and Hanzo groaned and rode up on his toes at the sudden pressure of a knee rubbing idle circles on his groin.

_”-So.”_ Another bite, lower, and his hakama slipped down to be caught in the crook of his elbow just above where one of his hands had been captured, one of the silk ties holding it up severed in between monstrous teeth. Hanzo’s breath came in quick pants that he hardly noticed until they were the only sound in the alleyway, beyond the moist heavy gusting of Reaper’s breathing. He clenched his teeth on it, scowling, knitting his brows together in an attempt to gather his composure, the danger of his position and hardness between his legs- and the steady pressure there-on- making it only more difficult.

_”Much.”_ Slick wet heat that circled _down,_ onto his chest, and then his nipple was enclosed in fevered, toxic heat and suction that had him squirming helplessly, riding hard against the thick, tree-trunk thigh jammed ruthlessly between his legs. He fair whimpered, the pressure just this side of too much, almost pain, and Reaper grinned with his nightmare mouth where it was still sharp against Hanzo’s breast.

_“Trouble._

This had escalated much more quickly than Hanzo intended. A bright flicker of shame burned in his throat as Reaper moved the hand not pinning his throat down, working it under the layers of his uniform to reach the sweat slick skin underneath. Hanzo returned his favor- moved by the embarrassment of being caught out in the open with the enemy, of being seen as the broken sorry thing he was by even one such as this.

He ignored the warning squeeze against his neck, discarding the act of breathing as expendable when the price was clawing underneath Reaper’s robes to get at his kevlar vest, feeling the fever-heat of some kind of infection and the bright patter of what might have been a pulse, that was much too fast and much too strong to be human. Like the movement of an insect, or the jerky stop-motion animation of something decaying on a forest floor. He unclipped one buckle, then another before Reaper made an irritated noise like a chainsaw.

Reaper knocked his hand away easily, taking it and pinning it up against the same hand that was holding Hanzo’s throat, one monstrous claw easily holding both and drawing blood as it did so; a hot trickle on his neck as Hanzo made a frustrated sound and squirmed.

 

Their previous encounters had been just as quick and dirty. They’d begun long before Hanzo had made contact with, or joined, Overwatch; when he was still bruised with lack of sleep and grief, strung out from the long chain of endless hotel rooms and safe houses.

He’d been sloppy, lenient. He’d shut his eyes looking at the leaking, cracked cement bottom of an overpass one night after eking out some payment from a particularly influential banker with a blackmail problem-  
And opened them to see sullenly glowing red eyes behind a bone white face, dark lines drawn like the accidental strokes of light against the ridges of ceramic.

He’d struck out instinctively, a blow that might have broken a human’s neck, and had been leading Talon on a merry chase ever since. Turned out he was some kind of target, a checkmark on Talon’s list as long as he was a tally on Overwatch’s, and it had only helped to corral him towards his decision of tentatively joining his brother.

He hadn’t said anything to Genji, to Morrison. Angela Ziegler healed his bites, the blood streaked through his hair and clothes and the splintered bones in the delicate network of his wrists, and didn’t ask questions.

It felt like benediction, every time this dark thing took an interest, smelled the ruination that was Shimada Hanzo, and came slinking back for more. Like a thing from Babylon, a curse, something Hanzo could not shake no matter how many times his brother ventured to put a delicate, icy metal finger to his elbow, a comforting touch to his shoulder as they left the transport shuttle, or came to meals.

 

Hanzo was a ruined thing, and as Reaper dragged claws down the delicate silk of his sleeves and shredded the skin underneath with the precisive and laser interest of someone holding something precious and delicate, he was reminded. Viscerally.

The knee pressed harder, and combined with the sudden shortness of breath in his lungs Hanzo felt himself ratcheting higher and tighter, a coil of heat in his belly and the tingling warmth of his limbs as he struggled futilely, hips rolling. One hand scrabbled at the wall, too overcome to concentrate, though perhaps he might have made his escape more easily than he was letting on. He knew Reaper would have guessed, as he’d never tied him. Never restrained Hanzo with much more than his unnaturally feverish weight, or his sharp tipped talons;  
Much as the idea of the alternative made his heart beat shamefully fast, made his hand venture below the cover of his blankets at night and grip himself dry and hard and almost too hard.

_”Ah,”_ Reaper sighed like a lover against Hanzo’s throat, having lost interest in the abused and reddened planes of his chest and ventured back up to hover sharp, jagged teeth centimeters above the delicate skin of Hanzo’s carotid artery. _“Is that it? You’re going to come, just like that?”_ A rumbling _hrn_ of consideration, and the teeth closed on Hanzo’s pulse point. _”How pathetic.”_ He sounded amused.

Hanzo growled in annoyance, bringing his free hand up to claw back as he could, finding the soft give of _something_ against Reapers ribs, drawing lines, and thrusting back against him with the leverage he could gain against the dirty wall. “If you continue pawing at me like an old woman through a cart of produce, I suppose something was bound to happen.” Hanzo sneered, although it was rather strained.

Reaper chuckled, and drew his head up to met Hanzo’s eyes, uncomfortably close and grinning. His mouth slashed jaggedly across the necrotic, chitinous skin of his face, full of sharp teeth and a blackened, slick looking tongue that only kept inside of nightmarish jaws by virtue of it’s ability to curl. Four ruby red eyes blinked from sunken sockets, sideways, and for all it  
It’s unnatural alien countenance, Hanzo supposed there was some kind of terribly beauty to its sharp angles and gaunt intensity. The same you’d find in a shark, as it approached through the dark of midnight black water. Or the growth of some kind of fungal life, sprouting clutching fingers through the ivory white bone and tattered fur of a forest corpse.

Or a fire, as it devoured a city.

Reaper’s voice turned sing-song, terrifying. _”We have five minutes before your team arrives. The faster you come,”_ And here Reaper lowered himself to his knees, hissing wetly, a low chuckle as he carefully unwrapped the contents of Hanzo’s plain linen trousers, his tactical gear crunching onto the scattered detritus of the alley floor. The cool night air was a shock, and even more so was the feverish heat that enclosed his cock a moment later, an actual moaning gasp escaping as he clenched his newly freed fists onto Reaper’s shoulders, the rough fabric of his cloak. The threat of teeth retreated a moment later as Reaper withdrew with a long, hard suck, a faint pop and a chuckle like gravel. His tongue always seemed to linger longer than the rest of him, curled lovingly around Hanzo’s length. _“The faster you’ll be able to clean yourself up.”_

With that, the wet heat returned, a rumbling growl sending vibrations all up Hanzo’s spine starting from the root of his dick, leaving him gasping helplessly and weak kneed. The thought of his team rounding the corner any moment, finding him in such a position- It only added an extra measure of humiliation, one that had him burning with arousal and gritting his teeth when he wasn’t making helpless noises. The only thing holding him up was Reaper’s broad clawed hands spread across his stomach, the span of his hip, threatening to break skin every time Hanzo dared to jerk his hips, thrust shallowly and uncontrollably into the almost cancerous heat of the mouth on his cock.

It didn’t take long after that declaration of a time limit, just a brush of teeth and the fragile press of claws against the skin of his hip, drawing blood, and Hanzo was coming down the hungry throat around him. His mouth was open but noiseless with the ease of long practice, stuffing his mouth into the crook of his elbow and chest heaving. His orgasm rolled through him like a wash of warmth, with the steady attention of Reaper’s tongue drawing it out as easily as a cat would lap at milk, long and shaking and blinding him with the intensity. His knees did give out, and Reaper slowed his fall in a careless way with hands on his hips, following him down and refusing to give up on his treat.

Over-sensitivity made him groan in an almost pained way as Reaper stayed attached, rumbling in a pleased way as he licked Hanzo clean with that serpentine tongue, sucking a few more times in a starved way that had Hanzo pushing futilely at his shoulders to get him off.

_”Had enough?”_ Reaper finally withdrew of his own accord, smug, scooting forward like a pushy cat to thrust his monstrous face in the curve of Hanzo’s sweaty neck, licking the salt there while Hanzo panted shakily. _“Suppose it’s for the best. Hate to meet the family this way.”_

Hanzo stiffened, and kicked feebly in indignation until Reaper withdrew, chuckling and scooping his mask up from where it lay at their feet on the bloodstained ground.

He stood, shadow casting itself long across the ground, longer than it should be, and Hanzo simply sneered as Reaper clicked his mask back on, sighing in relief as if he had scratched some kind of itch. “I will kill you.” Hanzo panted simply into the silence, glaring, as Reaper re-buckled his vest, drawing his cloak around him and hiding away all that predatory sharpness.

Even as Hanzo drew the shoulder of his hakama back up and fixed himself into some form of decorum, Reaper chuckled, turning slowly more and more insubstantial. It was only now Hanzo realized that the sounds of fighting had long ceased, and any moment now he’d be tracked by GPS for pickup.

He stood on shaky knees, hating himself for his weakness, hating himself even more for the sort of scoured out pristine he felt afterwards. Calm. Hating Reaper possibly even more, for every time this ended and Hanzo’s throat still remained intact and all of his blood pulsing through his veins.

Hating himself for wanting it.

_”Can’t wait.”_

Reaper chuckled, and dissipated like so much smoke, the stagnant air moving slightly with his unnatural passage, and as Hanzo watched with his pulse thudding the steadiest it had in weeks, he was gone.

He collected his gear, putting himself back in order and wiping the worst of the blood away. What he could not hide he smeared with grit, trusting it to hide the worst truth of his injuries; Mercy rarely asked questions, simply pursed her lips in a quizzical way when he slinked into the medical wing like a dog that had been rolling in the garden.

 

But even as Hanzo keyed his communicator for pickup and stood in the alleyway choked with death and the smell of gore, he found himself thumbing the bruises on his wrist, his throat, and wondering numbly when they would clash again.

**Author's Note:**

> **********
> 
> WOW HAHA I found this in my google-docs, titled 'unnamed', and thought hm, what's this? TURNS OUT I got drunk and whipped this up, and was pretty tickled to find it again. Haha.
> 
> Ha. 
> 
> Anyway, this is like, only my second time writing porn, so... I guess sorry?? Any critique or comments would be welcome since I have no beta's or editors!  
> Love these rarepairs. I love trolling the kink-meme and finding little surprises. This one isn't as exact to the prompt as I'd hoped, but it got a little out of hand anyway. Maybe I'll do a sequel of it where I fill the rest. :)g  
> https://overwatch-kink.dreamwidth.org/679.html?thread=476583
> 
> Also not sure if it's clear, but Reaper/Hanzo has been going on for quite a bit here.


End file.
